A nightmare to remember
by Mystik
Summary: Dean was fourteen the first time he killed someone, the end result messy and bloody.
1. Prologue

**Pairing:** DeanxSam

**Beta:** Kiraynn

**Genre:** Slash, AU, Darkfic, Gore, Violence

**Notes: **Written for a prompt by Evileve18. Title taken from a song of Dream Theater.

* * *

**A nightmare to remember - Prologue**

Dean was fourteen the first time he killed someone, the end result messy and bloody. The victim was his father's friend; a guy who practically lived in the bar and constantly drank with John. Dean had gone inside the bar to search for his father on the fourth night he was missing and the man followed him out after John had pretty much expelled Dean from the building.

The man was tall and thin like a twig, but had a bruising and strong grip. Unfortunately for him though, Dean's dad had been a marine and had taught Dean everything he knew about weapons and all forms of fighting.

The guy hadn't stood a chance.

Dean watched the puddle of blood grow beneath the man who had tried to touch him, the rugged face unrecognizable. And a smile touched Dean's lips before he turned around and walked away.

Sammy was waiting for him back home.

* * *

The first time Sam killed someone, he was twelve years old. It was perfect but bloody. Dean taught him everything he knew about how to turn the knife inside the body, which places he should cut to draw more blood, and when to stop before the person passed out from the pain he inflicted.

Sam did all of that, his chest swelling with pride every time he felt the weight of Dean's approving eyes on his back.

When the cops found their dad's body, they were miles away with nothing but the open road and the world at their feet.

Just Dean and Sam against the world.

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

**Pairing:** DeanxSam

**Beta:** Kiraynn

**Genre:** Slash, AU, Darkfic, Gore, Violence

**Notes: **Written for a prompt by Evileve18. Title taken from a song of Dream Theater.

* * *

**A Nightmare to Remember - Chapter one**

_Twelve years later._

"Okay guys, looks like we have a big case on our hands."

Hendrickson smirked as everyone else groaned. He turned off the lights and turned on the slides machine. Sounds of disgust filled the room as numerous pictures of mutilated bodies appeared on the view screen.

"What the hell are those, boss?" a member of the group asked, unease evident in their voice.

"Those, my friends, are the victims of two of the most evil bastards I've ever seen in my life. The Winchester brothers."

Hendrickson's next slide was of two men.

"Meet the older brother, Dean," he pointed to the shorter one, then the taller, "and the younger brother, Samuel."

"They are responsible for those... those mutilations?" inquired a brunette.

"The FBI has been on their tails for around eight years. But for the first time we have some actual pictures of their faces and a more detailed file about them." He gestured to the packs of papers on the table in front of everyone and started reading his own aloud: "At ages twelve and sixteen respectively, the brothers' first victim was their own father, Jonathan Winchester. They apparently disappeared not long after, tracks covered so completely that not even Social Services could find them. The best theory is that they made their way to Canada and stayed for some undetermined amount of time.

"The next victims we know about were a friend of their father's, Ellen Harvelle, and her daughter Jo. On these murders they evolved and took their time, drawing out the torture and deaths as long as possible. That kind of evolution leads us to have suspicions that there are unknown victims in Canada, too, that they may have practiced on."

One of the guys raised his hand. "If we have their faces and an extensive profile like that, how is it possible they haven't been caught yet?"

The head agent sighed. "That's the problem right there. The photo was taken because they didn't know that their last victim's house had cameras installed. Every person who has tried to take them down before ended up like those mutilated bodies."

Everybody started talking at the same time, voicing their concerns and immediate theories about the case, the victims, and the brothers. But they fell silent as Hendrickson cleared his throat.

"The only way to have a better leverage is to separate those two. And now we've arrived at what the plan should be because since their father's death they have never, to our knowledge, been apart." He took a deep breath. "Okay guys, time to make those brains work."

* * *

"Fuck, Dean..."

Unable to find his voice, Dean could only nod in agreement. He hugged Sam closer and fucked into him deeper. Sam closed his hands into fists against the cool, slick tiles of the shower wall, his eyes closed tightly and his breath labored. Their skin burned from the water raining down on them; the sex even hotter in the steam cloud that had formed throughout the bathroom.

Dean's right hand pumped Sam's painfully hard cock, luscious mouth kissing and biting his shoulder blades as the thrust of his hips sped up.

"God Sammy, always so tight for me..."

Sam groaned in response and rested his forehead against the tiles. Dean pulled him even closer against his equally soaked body, their combined movements becoming rougher. Sam smiled and licked his lips, lost in his pleasure, and felt his balls pull tightly. His body dangerously close to the edge. Nothing like a fresh kill to make the sex even more amazing.

"Dean, fuck! I'm gonna…" Sam cut off with a gasp. His fist slammed against the wall as he came, cock throbbing in his brother's hand.

"Sam…" Dean groaned, squeezing his little brother's cock, milking for all it was worth. Reaching the peak himself, he continued to thrust as he filled the younger man with his thick, hot seed.

Sam sighed as his euphoria slowly ended, body still sandwiched between his brother and the shower wall. Dean laughed softly against Sam's shoulder blades, nuzzling the wet skin. He slowly eased his spent dick from Sam's ass then turned him around, his fingers lingering in the shallow cut on his forearm.

"Still hurts?"

"Nah," Sam smiled, "just burns a little. Nothing a patch can't solve." He kissed Dean's pouty lips. "The guy who did it got worse in return, anyway."

Dean kissed him back with a laugh.

Out of the shower they dried each other with fluffy, white towels between kisses and lingering touches. Dean opened the door and looked at Sam over his shoulder.

"Hey, pay attention to the floor."

"Okay."

Sam tied the towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, taking care to not step where pools of blood had soaked into the carpet. He dropped his duffle onto the queen sized bed to dig inside for some fresh clothes. He barely glanced at the two corpses on the center of the bed, freshly carved with newly sharpened knives not even half an hour prior.

"Hey check this out, Sammy."

The younger man looked up and smiled as Dean held up a bag full of money. "So he _was _rich. He lied."

"Well, it's not like we can make him suffer anymore."

Sam laughed, putting on his clothes and closing his duffel. He sat on the edge of the soiled bed to slip on his sneakers that Dean tossed to him.

"Where we going next?"

Dean stepped between Sam's spread legs, fingers carding through his wet hair. Sam closes his eyes and leaned into the touch with a purr.

"Maybe we should celebrate before we move on to the next town."

Sam moved forward to rub his face against Dean's stomach, inhaling the masculine scent that he always associated with his brother. His everything.

"I want some beer."

Dean laughed, sliding his fingers through his hair one more time before he stepped away. "Come on, baby boy. Let's hit the bar."

They left the house almost five minutes before the police arrived.

* * *

"Good God."

Hendrickson agreed with the other agent's breathless shock, his eyes taking in every ounce of the crime scene: The pools of blood, the couple completely carved like Halloween pumpkins, the way no furniture was even out of place which indicated the lack of a struggle. He doubted there were even any usable fingerprints on anything.

"Agent Hendrickson, come here for a second!"

Hendrickson stepped away from the grisly scene and met with one of the forensics men in the bathroom. He was frowning as he put some bags away.

"Agent Spader, what is it?"

The younger man, held up a bag containing some samples of blood and semen. "We found evidences of sexual activity here in the bathroom and when compared to the estimated time of death of our victims, the samples seem to be more fresh. Which means-"

"Please don't finish that sentence," Hendrickson quickly interrupted, feeling nauseous.

Agent Spader nodded, the very thought making him sick. He gave the evidence bag to one of the newer agents to take to the lab.

"Do you think they're still in town?" he asked the dark haired man.

"I hope so."

"Hendrickson!"

Both man turned at the voice to see one of the rookies, Agent Ford, approach with a slight smile on his face.

"What is it?"

"Good news, we might have some lead to where the Winchesters will go next."

"What? How?"

"The police department just sent us this shot." Ford showed them a picture of a black muscle car with the two brothers inside.

"Good." Hendrickson rubbed his chin, the gears in his mind already turning. "I want a license plate ASAP, and then send both pictures to every town in the area. I want someone spotting them a mile away."

"Yes sir."

Hendrickson sighed as Ford walked away with his task. "I'm going to lock you up, Winchesters. Mark my words."

* * *

One week later, Sam and Dean were three towns over deciding on who to pick for their next victim. A single woman, perhaps? Or another couple?

They decided to cease the search for a few hours in favor of stopping at a local bar. Sam claimed a booth for them in a dark corner of the room and stretched his legs contentedly, waiting for Dean to get their drinks. The last kill left them plenty of money so they didn't need to worry about that for a while at least.

Finding him, Dean set the beers on the table and sat next to him with a smirk. Sam smiled back and put his hand on Dean's thigh, squeezing softly.

"What's got you so happy, little brother?" Dean smirked even wider behind the rim of his glass.

"Oh… nothing," Sam replied, tilting his head back to rest it against the cushioned seat. "Just enjoying the chance to relax."

Dean moved closer and nuzzled against the enticing length of Sam's throat, causing his brother to close his eyes in pleasure. "Yeah, feels good to have nothing to worry about for a few hours."

Sam made an affirmative noise then turned his head and kissed him. A moan slipped from his slightly parted lips when Dean grabbed his hair and held him close to devour his mouth. Sam sat his glass on the table then peeled Dean's from his free hand. He turned his body towards his brother to deepen the kiss, his hand slowly trailing up Dean's thigh.

Dean always tasted fantastic; sweet with a slightly rich aftertaste, like strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. And the way he just manhandled him as he saw fit made Sam's head spin.

"Dean…" Sam moaned against his lips.

He knew they were each other's world, no question about that and the very thought never failed to send heat throughout his entire body.

The kiss slowly dragged to a stop. Sam smiled with his eyes closed when he heard Dean chuckle.

As absorbed as they were in their own little world that only contained the two of them, they failed to notice the group of guys watching them from the bar.

* * *

Fred arrived at Joe's Pub after a long day at the station, his body screaming for a beer and his brain aching to unwind. He spotted Jack, Kyle and Morty at the bar counter, seemingly interested in one of the corners as they whispered among themselves.

"What's up?" exclaimed Fred, slapping Morty on the back.

"Dude!" the guy thudded him in return.

Fred asked for a beer from the bartender and settled on a stool, resting his elbows on the countertop.

"What got your panties in a twist?"

"Those motherfucking faggots over there," spat Jack, gesturing with a jerk of his hand.

Fred looked over towards the direction his friend indicated and nearly choked on his beer, sputtering and coughing. "Holy shit… it's the Winchester brothers."

"Who?"

Fred shushed Jack with a quick wave of his hand. The three guys settled around Fred, eyebrows arched at how pale their friend had become.

"It came this morning," Fred explained after a large swallow of beer. "The FBI sent message to all the police stations that they're looking for the Winchester brothers. They're accused of brutal murder and robbery and the chief made us drill their faces into our minds so we could spot them anywhere."

Jack, Kyle and Morty nodded, faces dark. Suddenly Jack widened his eyes as realization dawned on him..

"Wait… they're brothers…. and they were kissing each other just a few moments ago!" All their expressions turned disgusted. "Well Fred, what are we waiting for? Let's take those faggot murderers down."

"Not so fast." Fred shook his head. "The chief was very clear: Try to get them apart. The FBI said they're even more fatal while together."

"So, if we can distract one of them for a few seconds… we can get the other," Kyle suggested.

"And maybe we can show him a lesson before we give him to the feds," Jack added, smiling maliciously. "Then we can get the other."

"Guys…" Fred started uncertainly. As dangerous as the Winchester brothers were and what they were capable of doing, he wasn't sure that what his friends had in mind was the smartest thing to do.

"Great idea. Which one should we get?" Morty asked, ignoring his friend, his body already thrumming with excitement.

Fred's protests faltered. He wasn't crazy about the plan the other men were cooking up… but admittedly, he couldn't let the brothers go free, either.

TBC


End file.
